In suppression their voices ring out
Delicate violence
In vocalizations tinged with the interpretation
Graciousness fills our time
Where I am at my edge
The beginnings, silent as the falling snow
peeling away the feathers of my soul
I am not breaking. Just becoming more
relentless frosted rocks
tearing into the sky.
gnashing away the memories of origin
the cunning of my species
is not rewarded here
somehow coercively hurtful
and somewhere in myself
there is a shadow in the moon
fearing neither exhaustion nor hunger
nothing is sacred
not anymore.
their signature in the tempo
shaping some sort of unknown
in a lingering sensitivity
of collapsing futures
trampled,
like villagers beneath a charging draught horse
a contemplative carnage
takes hold
echoing through my landscape
the eye of shedding power
to unforeseen æffect
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